


Come to My Window

by saintnoname



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ableism, M/M, Mental Institutions, Past Brainwashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:16:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintnoname/pseuds/saintnoname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve and Sam find James Barnes, there isn't much left of him.  Fury decides to put him in with former Avenger Clint Barton, who is having a difficult time with his own recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve said three words when he called Fury: “We found him.”

Fury’s response also consisted of three words: “Bring him in.”

Neither Steve nor Sam needed to ask where.  They both remembered where Fury’s hideout was.

Fury had been carefully tracking down HYDRA’s facilities over the last three months, but every time he thought he found a lead, he found the HYDRA facility already destroyed.  Clearly, he wasn’t the only one out for HYDRA’s blood; the other guy was just faster.  And Fury had a sneaking suspicion who the other guy was.

“When we found him, we didn’t know what to do,” Steve explained to the former SHIELD Director while Sam stayed with Barnes.  “So we brought him to you,” Steve finished with a sigh.

“What do you know?” Fury asked.

“That he finally believed me when I told him I knew him.”  Steve smiled as if that as the only thing that mattered.  “He believed me, but he couldn’t remember me.  Or much of anything else.  He remembered who he was forced to work for.”

“I figured as much,” Fury replied.  “For months, I tracked down various HYDRA facilities only to find they’d already been laid waste to.  I figured someone was doing a better job tracking them down than me, and decided to leave them to it.”

Steve worked his jaw.  “Well, I’m sorry to have taken your helper, but I thought helping save my best friend was important.”

Fury held Steve’s gaze before nodding.  “I’d like to talk to Wilson.”

Fury followed Steve and saw James Buchanan Barnes without a mask for the first time.  The man needed a shave and a haircut.  Some new clothes wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.

Fury crossed over to Sam.  “Wilson,” he greeted as he shook Sam’s hand.  “It’s good to see you again.”  He looked at Bucky.  “And Barnes.  It’s good to see you when you’re not trying to kill me.”

Barnes scowled at him.  Ignoring the look, Fury pulled Sam aside.  “Talk to me,” he murmured.

Sam shook his head, looking back at Barnes.  “Man, I don’t even know.  I’ve seen people come back from wars with all kinds of problems, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

A light bulb went on over Fury’s head.  “I think I have.”

 

* * *

 

 

Luce Reinstein took her job because she wanted to help people.  One thing she never anticipated was that one of the people she’d end up helping would be one of the heroes of the Battle of New York.

Another thing she could not have anticipated was Fury placing her in charge of a second brainwashed assassin.  Honestly, she did not get paid enough.

“We’re putting him in with Barton,” Fury informed her.

Luce raised her brows.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?  I mean, we’ve tried putting roommates in with him before, and…”  And each time, they’d had to be separated due to violent altercations, all of which were started by Clint.

“None of his roommates have been this guy,” Fury pointed out, which was true.  “The metal arm and decades of experience this guy’s got on Barton may be enough to put him off picking a fight with him.  Plus, this guy’s been through something kinda like him.  It could be good for Barton to be paired with someone who knows what it’s like to have his head messed with.”

Luce shook her head, knowing Nick was right, but still worrying about the safety of her highest profile patient.  “Alright.  We’ll start with fifteen minute increments, and if, after the first few days, there aren’t any incidents, we’ll back off to half hour increments.”

Fury nodded.  “Good.  Prepare to move the new patient in within three hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fury left and Luce told some orderlies to start getting ready to move a new patient in with Barton.  She headed to his room, wanting to break it to him that he’d have a new roommate before the actual bustle of moving began.

When she looked in his room, she saw him reading _On the Road_ on his bed.  She watched him for a moment before opening the door.  Clint let the book fall to his chest as he looked up at her.

Luce smiled apologetically as she sat in the chair across from the bed.  “I should have knocked first.”

“This must be a special occasion for you to come in and visit instead of just having someone look at me through the window.”

Luce ignored his sarcasm, not rising to the bait.  She was used to it by now.  “You know, I’ve never read that book, even though it’s one of the classics,” she remarked, gesturing toward the book.

Clint raised his eyebrows, sitting up and setting the book on the bed beside him.  “Yeah?  You ought to sometime.”

“What are you going to read next?”

“Probably another classic.  Maybe _Maurice_.”

“I haven’t read that one, either.”

“Me neither.”

Silence permeated the air for only a moment before Luce decided she couldn’t postpone breaking the news any longer.  “You’re getting a new roommate.”

Clint laughed incredulously.  “Again?  When am I meeting this one?”

“In about three hours.”

“Wow.  Okay.  A little more warning would’ve been nice.”

“I only found out just now myself, and I can say I’m with you 100%.”

Clint just glared.

“Why don’t you go to the recreation room while your room gets set up for him?” Luce suggested, knowing before she said it that he’d shoot her down.

Clint flopped back onto the bed, turned away from her.  “I don’t want to.”

“Would you like to go outside?”

“I guess so.”  With an exasperated sigh, Clint rolled over and sat up.

“That’s what I like to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

James Barnes was compliant enough to be brought in unrestrained ( _compliance will be rewarded, compliance will be rewarded_ ).  But he _wanted_ to be there.  He wanted to remember.  And he knew he would need help to do it.

He’d been informed he’d be sharing a room with someone who had been through something similar.  That grabbed his attention.  He didn’t think there was anyone who had gone through something like him.  Even though Clint Barton knew who he was, he also knew what it was like to have someone play games with his mind.  He knew what it was like to be unmade.

James walked down the hall with the man who had been his best friend and the man who seemed to have taken his place.  It was probably for the better.  Steve Rogers deserved a best friend who knew who he was.

One of the orderlies who was walking with them opened a door and stepped aside so James could enter.

James tentatively looked inside the room.  It had been set up with two twin size beds.  On one of the beds, a blond-haired man lounged reading a book.  James looked more closely at the book.  _On the Road_ by Jack Kerouac.

The blond man looked up from his book, then closed it while he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat.  “Hi.”

James did his best to smile.  “Hi.”

Steve and Sam joined James in the doorway.  James’s soon-to-be-roommate lit up.  “Steve?”

James stepped aside, letting Steve into the room.  James’s soon-to-be-roommate walked over to Steve, first clapping a hand on his shoulder, then pulling him into a one-armed hug.  “It’s damn good to see you.  How come you haven’t been here in so long?”

Steve returned the hug before the two men separated.  “I was looking for him,” Steve said with a nod at James.

James’s soon-to-be-roommate looked at Sam.  “Clint Barton,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Sam shook it.  “Sam Wilson.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Steve awkwardly looked from Clint to James, then back to Clint.  “This is Bucky Barnes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s James.”  All three men looked at James.

Bucky was dead, and he was no longer the Winter Soldier.  He needed a new name to fit his new personality.  The silence burned his ears, and he felt his face growing hot from all the eyes that were on him.

Finally, Clint smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you, James.”

James would have let out a sigh of relief if he hadn’t been conditioned not to make such displays of emotion.

“Well, we better get going,” Steve said.  He turned to Clint again.  “I promise I’ll visit more often.”

“Sounds good,” Clint replied.  “I look forward to it.”

Steve and Sam stepped out of the room.  The orderly poked his head in the room.  “Dr. Reinstein will be here to meet you in fifteen minutes, okay?”

James nodded.  The orderly left, closing the door behind him, and James was left alone with the strange man he’d be sharing a room with.  He felt the urge to flee.  Instead, he turned around to face the man.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”  Clint turned his back on James and walked back to his bed.  He sat down on it and picked up his book, but he didn't open it.  He just held it in his lap.

James sat across from him on the bed that would be his for the duration of his stay.

"I know," Clint said apologetically.  "The mattresses are too hard."

James shook his head.  At least it was a bed.  That beat sleeping on the streets, like he did while he was hunting HYDRA, and sleeping on the streets sure as hell beat cryo.  "What're you reading?"

Clint held up the book, displaying the cover.  " _On the Road_.  Ever read it?"

James squinted.  "When was it written?"

"1957."

"Probably not, then."  James very much doubted he did any pleasure reading while he was the Winter Soldier.

Clint stared at James like he was crazy, and honestly, James couldn't blame him.  Thankfully, that look only lasted a moment before Clint spoke again.  "What's your favorite book?"

For some reason, the words _Tropic of Cancer_ came to him.  He didn't know anything about the book, but he somehow knew it had been his favorite book before the brainwashing.

This kind of thing first happened in Venice a few months before.  As he passed by an ice cream shop, he began craving Neapolitan ice cream.  He could almost feel the cold, creamy treat in his mouth, taste the strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla melting together.  He didn't remember what it was like to eat Neapolitan ice cream, but his body did.  In that moment, he knew Bucky Barnes had loved Neapolitan ice cream.  He knew it in the same way he knew Bucky Barnes had been fluent in Italian.  The Winter Soldier wouldn't have been fluent in Italian if Bucky Barnes hadn't been; similarly, he couldn't know how Neapolitan ice cream tasted if Bucky Barnes hadn't eaten it.

And if Bucky Barnes hadn't read _Tropic of Cancer_ , the words wouldn't have come to James when asked what his favorite book was.  In this way, he had been piecing together bits of who he'd once been for months now.

" _Tropic of Cancer_ ," he answered.

Clint nodded.  “Not bad.  What else do you like?”

James blinked.  “Nobody told you why I’m here, did they?”

“No.  Why are you here?”

James chewed his lip.  “I spent the better part of the last seventy years being brainwashed and frozen, being used as an assassin for HYDRA.  I don’t remember much of anything from before the last time I was wiped.  That was just a few months ago.”

Clint’s eyebrows crept up slowly.  “So…what?  Did the brainwashing process make it so you couldn’t like stuff anymore?”

Holy shit, the sass.  James was impressed.  “No, I’m just still discovering and rediscovering what I like.  I figured I’d explain why I might act weird sometimes when asked things like that.”

C lint scoffed.  “It’s a mental institution.  Everyone acts weird here.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to share a room with everyone here.”

“They might not be in here, but there are times when they might as well be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand when it happens.”

It happened a little after dinner that evening.

James was startled by a loud sob from the other side of the wall.  Someone in the next room was crying.  Loudly.

Clint sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward toward James.  “That’s Leila,” he whispered.  “She was a SHIELD Agent like me.  She kept it up after SHIELD fell.  Unfortunately, she was pregnant at the time.  She ended up miscarrying because she refused to stay out of the field.  Losing SHIELD first, and then her baby?  Too much to handle.”

James turned toward the wall, almost as if expecting to see her through it.

“They believe in learning to self-regulate your emotions here,” Clint continued, “so unless they think you’re in danger, they don’t do shit if you start crying—except mention it in therapy the next day.”  Clint shrugged.  “I guess it works, because she’s gone from crying like this every day to doing it maybe once or twice a week.”  He smiled apologetically at James.  “Of course she picked your first day here to do it this week.”

James shook his head.  He wasn’t a fan of how Clint kept apologizing for things that weren’t his fault. 

Clint looked James over.  “You should go to the rec room.  You won’t be able to hear her from there, and you’ll have stuff to do.”

James thought about it, then nodded.  “What about you?”

“I’ll come get you when she stops.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Nah.  I’ll see you later.”

James shrugged.  “Alright, if you insist.”

Clint picked up his copy of _On the Road_ , effectively ending the conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, James’s real first day there began.  He’d been given a basic rundown of the schedule when he first arrived, but hadn’t really been in the right mindset to absorb and remember it. 

Fortunately, someone came in and went over it with him again after breakfast.  After breakfast was his first session with Dr. Reinstein.  That made him nervous.  He didn’t know what to expect, and a small part of him was scared that he couldn’t be helped at all.

He sat on a couch across from the woman he’d met the day before. 

She smiled at him.  “Hello, James.  We met yesterday, but we didn’t really get the chance to talk.  I’m Doctor Reinstein.  You can call me Luce, if you’d prefer.”

“I think I’ll stick to Dr. Reinstein.”

“That’s also fine.  What would you like to talk about?”

James blinked.  “You mean you’re not going to ask questions?  Lead the conversation?  I’m the one who’s going to decide where it goes?”

“Would you like me to ask questions and lead the conversation?”

James was silent, then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t know.  I don’t really know how this thing works.  I’ve never been to a headshrink, as far as I know.”  Realizing the woman across from him might find the term “headshrink” offensive, he looked up at her.  “I mean, a psychiatrist.”  When the woman gave him a forgiving smile, he continued.  “It’s been more than three months since the last time I was programmed.  I’ve managed to work out some details: I was put into cryo and my memories were wiped and I completed missions for them.

“It’s weird.  There’ll sometimes be flickers of recognition, but never real memories.  Like how I recognized Steve, but didn’t know from where.”  He’d recognized the red haired woman, too, but he didn’t say anything about that.  For some reason, he felt compelled to keep that a secret.  He didn’t bring up the ice cream or what happened just the night before with _Tropic of Cancer_.

“Why James instead of Bucky?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask questions or lead the conversation.”  He gave her a smirk.  He really didn’t mind.  “I don’t know what I was like as Bucky Barnes, but I know I’m not him anymore.  I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore, either.  I guess this is about me constructing a new identity for myself.”

Dr. Reinstein nodded.  “That makes sense.”

 

* * *

 

 James had been so nervous before the session, not knowing what it would be like, but he left it looking forward to talking again.  Somehow, just voicing some of the things he’d been struggling with alone these last few months (even if there was a lot h still hadn’t disclosed) made him feel better.  It was the first true sense of relief he’d had in he literally didn’t know how long.

After his session, he was escorted to the recreation room.  Clint wasn’t in there.  Other patients (and damn, it felt weird to count himself amongst them) sat at tables, playing board games or card games, reading or writing or working on puzzles.  James walked the perimeter of the room, examining the shelves of board games and puzzles, the view out the window, and then, finally, the bookshelf.

There was too much genre fiction there, too many mysteries.  James wasn’t particularly interested in mysteries.  He didn’t know if that was a preference Bucky had shared, but it was his.

He would have to ask Clint where he got his books, because judging from what was available, he suspected Clint didn’t read the rec room books.

Where was Clint, anyway?  Probably in his room reading, like the night before. 

Since the fiction selection failed to grab James, he selected a non-fiction book about WWII.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where were you earlier?” James asked Clint when he saw him at lunch.  “Why weren’t you in the rec room?”

Clint blinked at him.  “I was back in my—our room.”  He began carrying his tray to an empty table, gesturing with his head for James to follow.  “I like to avoid being around lots of people as much as possible.  It seems to work out better for them.”

“And how does it work out for you?”

Clint scoffed.  “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?  Because I get enough of that from Luce.”  He sat down at the table he’d led James to. 

James sat down beside him.  “You call her Luce?”

Clint sighed, looking at the man beside him.  “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”

James picked up his sandwich.  “Nope.”

“Great.”

“Where do you get the books you read?  Cause I get the feeling those don’t come from the rec room.”

“I ask for them.  Luce, Fury, or the Avengers, when they visit.  So far nobody’s failed to deliver on a request.”

“Hmm.”  James was thoughtful as he ate his sandwich quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

“I had a really weird experience yesterday,” James told Dr. Reinstein the next day when he met with her.  “I was in the rec room and I saw this book about World War II.  I thought that maybe it’d be a good idea for me to find out what was going on in the world when I—fell?  I guess?”  He shrugged.  “Anyway, I thought it would be good for me to know what the world was like back then.  And I dunno, I guess I thought maybe reading about it could help trigger some memories.”

James met the doctor’s eyes.  “I was in it.  There were pictures of me, descriptions of the battles I fought.”  He hesitated.  “Including the last battle I fought, and how I fell from the train.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“It was like the Smithsonian all over again.  Like I was being told my life story by someone else, and I couldn’t remember it.”

“And how does _that_ make you feel?”

James gritted his teeth, meeting her eyes.  “Frustrated.  Extremely.  Fucking.  Frustrated.”

“What do you think you could do when you start to feel frustrated?”

“I don’t know!  And that just makes me feel more frustrated.”

“I want you to try something for me.  The next time you start to feel frustrated or anxious, focus on your breathing.  I want you to take four deep breaths, feeling the air go all the way down to your belly.  Count to four as you inhale down to your belly, then to four again as you exhale.  Let me know how that works for you.”

James felt some tension leave his body.  Now, he had a plan, at least—one tool in his toolbox, which was better than nothing.

He nodded.  “I’ll do that.”

Dr. Reinstein gave him a smile, then looked at the clock.  “We’ve still got some time.  Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

James nodded.  “My roommate mentioned you could get books for me.”

“That, I can do.  What book did you have in mind?”

“ _Tropic of Cancer_?”

“The one you said you somehow knew was your favorite.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Since he didn’t have the book yet, he wasn’t sure what to do till lunch.  He was afraid to read any more history books after what happened the day before, but none of the fiction books interested him much.  The puzzles probably all had missing pieces.

James looked around the rec room.  His eyes settled on a blonde woman sitting at a table by the window, playing checkers by herself.  The sun caught in her blonde hair, radiating around her.

As James watched her, a strange feeling washed over him.  This feeling was different from the feeling he got at the museum and when he read that history book.  It was also different from when he realized _Tropic of Cancer_ was his favorite book.

The feeling was déjà vu.

There was something familiar about the black and red board, but James couldn’t put his finger on it.  It wasn’t just that it was a checkerboard—of course he would know what a checkerboard would look like.  But there was a specific memory attached to it, bubbling beneath the surface, and he couldn’t get to it.  It was like he was standing on a frozen lake and the memory was trapped beneath the ice, and he couldn’t break the ice no matter how hard he tried.

No, that wasn’t right.  He was the one beneath the ice.

He remembered what Dr. Reinstein said earlier: that if he started to feel anxious or frustrated, he should focus on his breathing.  He took a deep breath in, slowly counting to four, then exhaled, counting to four again.  Just having something to focus on other than the source of his anxiety was helping already.  He took three more deep breaths.  By the time he was done, he felt about a million times better.

He couldn’t believe he’d been doing this on his own for three months, without coping strategies or support.  But now he had both, and he couldn’t wait to tell his support that the coping strategy she gave him worked.

Since he couldn’t think of anything to do in the rec room, James found himself back in his room with Clint.  “Dr. Reinstein is gonna try to get me a copy of _Tropic of Cancer_ ,” he said.  He still didn’t know his roommate very well, and didn’t know what else to start a conversation about.  But Clint seemed to enjoy reading.

The interested twitch upward of Clint’s brow told James he’d made the right choice.

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked.  “You’ll have to let me know if you like it as much as you think you did.”

James wasn’t sure how he felt about Clint making fun of his memory loss.  On one hand, it stung, having someone make light of something that had caused him so much difficulty and frustration.  On the other hand, it was nice to have someone who was willing to talk about it in a non-clinical way without tiptoeing around it.  “I’ll let you know,” James promised.

He didn’t have the chance to say anything else, because an orderly popped his head in the room.  Clint sat up, and both he and James turned to the newcomer.

“Mr. Barton?” the orderly inquired.  “Natasha Romanoff is here to see you.”

“Tell her I can’t see her right now,” Clint replied.

“She thought you might say no, so she told me to give you this.”  The orderly stepped into the room and held out a box of chocolates to Clint.

Clint stared at the box, then slowly extended a hand to take it.  He turned the box over in his hands, examining it.  Then he looked up at the orderly.  “Tell her ‘thank you.’”

The orderly lingered.  “She’s come here almost every Tuesday since you got here.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her?”

“Yes.  Tell her thank you for the chocolates, and—”  He stopped, chewing on his lip.  “And tell her I’m sorry.”

“Yes, sir.”  The orderly left, closing the door behind him.

Clint opened the box of chocolates, sitting cross-legged on his bed.  He looked over at James.  “Want some?”

James crossed to Clint’s bed.  “Who’s Natasha?” he asked as he sat on the edge of Clint’s bed.  He brought his legs up to sit cross-legged facing Clint, the box of chocolates between them.

Clint popped a chocolate in his mouth.  “My best friend.”

So many other questions went through James’s mind, but he didn’t want to push.  He selected a round chocolate and put it in his mouth.  “Mmm,” he said as he bit down into it.

Clint’s eyes traveled down to James’s mouth, and the corner of his lip quirked upward.  “Good, isn’t it?”

There was something lecherous about the way Clint was looking at James and the way he asked that question.  It made James feel inclined to be lecherous in return.

James met the other man’s eyes, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.  “Yeah.  It is good.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nick walked through the hall accompanied by Steve, Sam, and a couple of orderlies.  It had been a week since they dropped off the man formerly known as the Winter Soldier, and it was time to check up on his progress.

One of the orderlies opened the door to the room Clint and James shared.  “Gentlemen?” Nick heard the orderly say.  “There are some people here to see you.  Nick Fury, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers.”

Nick didn’t hear what the boys said in response, but they obviously approved of the visit, because the orderly stepped aside to let Steve, Sam, and Nick into the room.

Sam and Steve went in first, smiling as they greeted James and Clint.  James and Clint smiled in return.  “It’s damn good to see you,” Clint said.  He went over to Steve and gave him a hug.  James didn’t.

“I told you I’d start visiting more often again, didn’t I?” Steve asked, patting Clint on the back.

“Yeah, you did.”

Nick walked over to James’s bed and set the bag he’d been carrying down on it.

“What’s this?” James asked, examining the bag.

“A gift,” Nick said dryly.

James reached into the bag and pulled out a copy of _Tropic of Cancer_.  He looked up at Nick.  “You spoke with Dr. Reinstein.”

Nick nodded.  “She figured I should deliver it, since I was planning to visit.”

“Isn’t that a breach of doctor/patient confidentiality?” Clint snapped from across the room.  He began approaching Nick confrontationally. 

James held up his hand, motioning for Clint to stop.  Fortunately, he did.  “All she told him was that I wanted a book.”  He looked up to Nick for confirmation.  “Right?”

“Right,” Nick replied.

“Bullshit,” Clint said under his breath as he turned away, huffily going to sit down on his bed.

James cared more about the fact that a conflict had been avoided than he did about the fact that his doctor had told Fury something he told her in confidence.  He could talk to her about that later.

For the time being, he reached back into the bag and pulled out a box.  On the box was a picture of a laptop.  “Is this for me?”

“No, it’s for Art Garfunkel.”

“Who?”

Nick shook his head.  “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Mr. Barnes.  The internet will help a lot with that.”

James set the laptop back down on his bed.  “Thank you.”

Nick addressed all the other men in the room.  “I’ll leave you four to visit.  I need to talk to Dr. Reinstein.”

True to his word, Nick left the other four in Clint’s an James’s room and went to talk to Luce.

“Still no word from the Doctor?” he asked.

Luce gave him a glare, then went back to her work.  “It’s nice to see you, too,” she said without looking up at him.

“I apologize for not upholding formalities,” Nick said.  “I thought we were behind that.”

“You can still say hello, even if you’ve known someone a long time.”

The smallest hint of a smile tugged up the corners of Nick’s mouth.  “Hi.”

Luce looked up at Nick.  “Hi.”  She went back to her work as she spoke.  “As for the answer to your question: no, we haven’t heard from him.  Since he said he’d let us know when he got back, we’re assuming he’s still out of dimension.”

“I think he could be a great help to Barnes.”

“I think so, too, but until he returns, all we’ve got is traditional psychiatry.  We can’t depend on someone who’s not here.”

“I agree.  Keep me posted.  Let me know if you hear anything.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Thank you.  In the meantime, I’ll be checking back or sending others to do it for me.”

When Nick returned to Clint’s and James’s room, he found those two, along with Sam and Steve, all seated on one bed gathered around the unboxed laptop.  The four of them looked up at Nick.

“We set up the laptop,” James said as if it wasn’t obvious.

“So I see,” Nick replied, then addressed Steve and Sam.  “You two ready to go?”

Sam stood, then looked back at the three men who were still on the bed.  He then looked back at Fury.  “We’d like to stay a little longer, if that’s okay.  We can find another way back.”

Nick looked from Sam to Steve.  Steve nodded.

Nick knew Barton isolated himself as much as possible, so any time he spent with others was beneficial.  The fact that one of the people he was spending time with was a fellow Avenger who had been there during the incident only increased this.  “Okay,” he said.


	5. Chapter 5

“Don’t use it,” Clint said as soon as Fury was gone.

Steve rolled his eyes.  “Oh, come on.”

Clint met Steve’s eyes.  “I know Fury better than any of you.  He didn’t just give James that laptop so he could catch up on world history.”

“What, are you suggesting Fury’ll spy on him?  It sounds like he already is—getting reports on him from your therapist.”

“Exactly.  Why let his privacy be invaded even more?”

Steve didn’t answer.  It seemed that he couldn’t argue against that.

“Uh…”  Everyone turned to look at James, who was finally speaking up on the matter.  “Since it’s _my_ privacy being invaded, don’t you think _I_ should get the final say?”

Evidently, nobody had anything to say against that, either.  James turned to Clint, giving him a reassuring look.  “I’ll be _careful_.  Don’t worry.”

Clint nodded, but didn’t seem quite convinced.

“I can disable the mic and camera; I can search incognito; I can check if there’s a tracker.  I’ll be okay.”

Clint nodded again, seeming more convinced this time.  “I believe you,” he affirmed.

 

* * *

 

“So, you had some visitors yesterday.  How was that?”

“Great,” James said with just a hint of sarcasm.  “One of ‘em seemed pretty close to you.”

Dr. Reinstein sighed, running a hand over her face.  “You’re talking about Fury.”

“I’m talking about Fury.”

Their eyes met, and they remained like that for a moment, staring at each other in silence.  “This is the first time he’s ever asked me to do anything like this,” Dr. Reinstein said.  “It’s unethical.  It goes against everything I was taught while I was getting my degree.”

“If you hate it so much, why not quit?”

“Fury felt I was best qualified to handle you, since I already had one patient with…an unusual condition.”

“Clint.”

“Clint.”

“Are you reporting back to Fury about him, too?”

She shook her head.  “I assure you, you’re the only person he’s ever asked for updates on.”

James snorted.  “That’s reassuring.”  But at least it meant he was the only person being subjected to this.

“Anyway, I knew that if it wasn’t me working with you and giving reports back to Fury, someone else would be doing it, and I would rather it be me.  I didn’t know if I could trust anyone else to do this.”  She met his eyes again.  “But if you’d rather it be someone else, I understand.”

James shook his head.  “I believe you’re being honest with me, and I appreciate that.  I’m going to stick with you.”  Then he added, “For now.”

Dr. Reinstein nodded.  “Well, it’s your hour.  We can be done for the day if you don’t have anything else you want to talk about.”

James shrugged.  “I guess I felt a little insulted by Steve and Sam yesterday.  They were trying to show me how to use a laptop like they thought I’d never used one before.  I didn’t say anything because they were trying to be helpful and I appreciated the intent.  But what they don’t seem to understand is that I wasn’t frozen for seventy years the way Steve was.  I know how to use a laptop.  I used them when I was the Winter Soldier.  I still have all my _skills_ ; I just don’t have my memories.  If that makes sense.” 

He chuckled.  “And Clint was sitting there with this look on his face that seemed both amused and full of restraint.  Like he could tell I know how to use a laptop and was just humoring them by letting them show me, and he was getting a kick out of it, so he wasn’t going to say anything even though it took a lot of effort to hold it in.” 

James frowned.  “Clint didn’t think I should use the laptop.  He thinks it’s probably just another way for Fury to keep tabs on me, and I think he’s right.”

Dr. Reinstein nodded.  “He probably is.”

“But I said I can watch out for myself.”

“I have no doubt you can.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

When James retreated to the rec room, he was surprised to find Clint there. 

Clint was busy at work putting together a puzzle that looked like it had some kind of floral scene.  James watched for a moment before sitting across the table from him.

Clint looked up from his puzzle at James.  Clint smiled.  “Hey there.”

“Hey, yourself.”  James returned the smile.  “So, I’ve been here for over a week, but this is the first time I’ve seen you in here.  What gives?”

Clint shrugged.  “Finished my last book, haven’t gotten a new one yet.”

James raised a brow.  “What about your hatred of people?”

Clint almost seemed to jump at that question.  “I never said I hated people.  I love people.  I just don’t love hurting them.”

“Then…why don’t you come in here?”

“I do come in here.  I just don’t do it that often.  Maybe once or twice a week?”  He leaned in, lowering his voice to confide in James.  “Ever since I had Loki in my head, being around a lot of people overstimulates me.  It kind of freaks me out a little, so I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

This was the first time Clint had really opened up to James.  On one hand, James wanted to jump on that opportunity, but at the same time, he didn’t want to come on too strong and make Clint close himself off again.  He examined the partially completed puzzle as he thought of a delicate way to phrase what he wanted to ask.  “Do you remember everything that happened while he was…”

Clint nodded.  He met James’s eyes.  “But it’s one thing to remember what happened and another to recover from that.  And to deal with the guilt of what they made you do.”

James swallowed, looking away.  “And accepting that it is stuff that they made you do.  That it’s not your fault.”  James was still blaming himself and feeling guilty for things he didn’t even remember.  He knew on some level that those things weren’t his fault, but knowing something was different from _feeling_ it, and what he knew and felt were in discordance with each other.

“Yeah,” Clint said with a certainty that said he understood what James meant.

James met Clint’s eyes again.  “How do you accept it?”

“A lot of positive self-talk and therapy.”  Clint gave James a half-smile to show he was being tongue-in-cheek.  He gestured to the puzzle.  “Wanna help me finish this puzzle?”

James smiled weakly.  “Yeah.”  He pulled his chair in closer and joined Clint in working on the puzzle.

That night, James lay awake in bed.  His mind raced, making it hard for him to fall asleep.  He could tell Clint was awake, too.  James had excellent hearing, and could tell the man was awake from the way he breathed.  “Clint?” he asked, turning to face his roommate’s bed.

There was a stirring from the other bed and Clint propped himself up on an elbow facing James.  “Yeah?”

“Have you said anything about me to Dr. Reinstein?”

Clint laid back down on his back.  “Yeah,” he said, a shrug in his voice.  “I told her I’m worried about you.  And that I don’t trust her anymore.”

James actually sat up.  “Are you going to ask for a transfer?”

“I’m thinkin’ about it.  You?”

James shook his head.  “I’m gonna have my information shared with Fury no matter what.  At least she was forthcoming about it.”

“And you’re still planning on using the laptop, just bein’ careful about it?”

“Yeah.”

“I trust you to know how to do that.”

James was quiet a moment.  “How did you know I know how to use a laptop?  I mean, Steve and Sam seemed to think I didn’t, but you seemed to know right from the beginning.”

Clint turned his head, looking at James.  “Cause I was looking at you, not the laptop.”  He looked back at the ceiling.  “And cause I know what it’s like.  I know you don’t lose everything just because someone messed with your mind.  And I know that no matter what, there’s always a little part of you that’s _you_.”

James laughed bitterly.  “I don’t feel like there’s a part of me that’s me.”  Even as he said it, he knew Clint was right.  Even though James couldn’t remember Bucky Barnes, fragments of the man remained, living on in James.  HYDRA hadn’t managed to kill Bucky Barnes.

Both James and Clint were quiet a little while before James heard Clint chuckle.  “I feel like a kid having a sleepover,” Clint said.  “Talking in the dark long after our bedtimes.  Sharing secrets.”

James smiled.  “I wouldn’t know.”

“Sure you would.  We’re doing it right now.”

“I guess so.”  After another quiet pause, James said, “I think I’m ready to sleep now.  Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Clint.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Clint trudged alone through a snowstorm.  He wore a white parka over his Hawkeye uniform, and a black scarf that covered his neck and mouth.  In the distance were snow-covered mountains.  Apart from that, nothing but the storm._

_A shadow lurked out of the corner of his eye.  He couldn’t make out the figure’s features, but he would know that silhouette anywhere._

_He whipped toward the figure, drawing an arrow from his quiver.  The shadow’s features solidified.  Just as Clint suspected: Loki._

_“I know what you’re looking for,” the god sneered.  Although he stood mere feet away from Clint, his voice echoed as if coming from the distant mountains.  “You’ll never save her.”_

_Anger surged within Clint.  Wasting no time, he jammed the sharpened end of his arrow through Loki’s eye and into his brain._

_Only it wasn’t Loki.  Clint didn’t realize this until it was too late._

_Clint had put an arrow through the eye of his best friend._

_Natasha stood there a second with the arrow sticking out of her head, a mix of confusion and betrayal on her face.  Clint was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch._

_Natasha sputtered, choked, gurgled before she fell to her knees.  Thick, dark blood oozed out of her mouth, spilling down her chin._

_“Run along, little hawk,” Loki’s voice echoed from the mountains.  Loki’s disembodied voice chuckled darkly._

_Natasha pitched forward, and the arrow stuck up through the back of her head when she hit the ground._

Clint’s eyes flew open.  He was okay.  Nat was okay.  He was here, and it was just a dream.

Just like all the other ones.

Clint sat up and looked at the form of his sleeping roommate.  He was here, and he was now, and he was not alone.

Slowly, Clint lay back down, eyes not leaving James.  He focused on the sound of the other man’s breathing, allowing it to anchor him.

It was a while before he was ready to go back to sleep again.

 

* * *

 

It was Tuesday, which meant it was the day Natasha visited.  Like last time, Clint declined her visit, but she left chocolates with him.  Also like last time, Clint offered to share them with James.

“Thanks for sharing with me,” James said.  Then he added, a little quieter, “Again.”

Clint quietly studied James as he chewed on a chocolate.  “You’re judging me,” he stated.

James was quick to dispel this notion, even though it was true.  He shook his head.  “ _No_.  No, I’m not.”

“You think I should see her.”

“I just don’t understand why you won’t.”  He decided to leave it unspoken that he wanted to know.  That much was implied.

“If you did know, you wouldn’t judge me for not wanting to see her.”

James waited for Clint to provide that explanation, but it didn’t come.  Clint went right on eating his chocolates.  James’s teeth ground together as he watched the man.  “So enlighten me.”

Clint looked up at him.  “What?”

James shrugged his human shoulder.  “You said I wouldn’t be judging you right now if I knew why you wouldn’t see her.  So put an end to that judgment.  Tell me.”

Clint snorted.  “So you admit to judging me.”  He looked at James, but James didn’t answer.  Instead, James met Clint’s eyes, daring him, challenging him.

Clint didn’t shy away from the eye contact.  He gave James a look of his own, and it was a look laced with arsenic.  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and his face set, hard.

James didn’t back down, either.  It was stupid, and he knew I was stupid.  It was stupid and petty for two grown men to be having this kind of staring contest.  But his pride wouldn’t allow him to be the first to look away.

After a long moment, Clint looked away.  “I’m going to shower,” he mumbled as he stood.  “You can finish those.”

Clint stripped off his shirt as he walked to the bathroom, disappearing topless into the other room.

It was the first time James had ever seen Clint in a state of undress.  Both of them always waited until they were in the bathroom, out of the other’s line of sight before they began removing their clothes.  It was a testament to Clint’s emotional state that he’d begun undressing in front of him.

James had fucked up.

 

* * *

 

“I fucked up.  I fucked up.  I’m a fucking idiot and I fucked up.”

Dr. Reinstein held up a hand.  “Take a deep breath, James, and tell me what happened.”

James took a deep breath.  And another.  “Yesterday, Natasha came to visit, and Clint turned her down, just like last week.  I asked him why he wouldn’t see her, and we had this weird stare-down thing, and he hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Yes!  When he came out of the shower, I tried to apologize—” (but had been distracted by flushed skin and damp hair) “—and I said I didn’t realize what a touchy topic it was for him, and I wouldn’t ask again.  And he looked at me, so I know he heard me, but he didn’t say anything.”  James slumped in his chair. 

“It is a touchy subject for him, but I can’t tell you why.”

“Ha!  _Now_ you honor doctor-patient confidentiality?”

Dr. Reinstein hesitated.  “I only breach it when I’m ordered to, and only to Fury.”

James waved a flippant hand through the air.  “No, it’s all good.  Really, I understand.”  He did understand, but it was really not all good.  It was really, really not all good.  But he also knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“He might just need time, as frustrating as that may be to hear.”

James sat up straight.  “It’s just—”  He paused, blowing out air.  “I was feeling like we were really starting to connect.”  Like how James’s eyes had connected with Clint’s torso the day before.  “Understanding each other.  Talking.  Communicating.”  He looked away, voice getting quieter.  “What if I fucked this all up?  What if that progress is flushed down the toilet because I was acting stupid?”

“If you think it’s worth pursuing, keep trying.  But don’t push him too hard.  It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and like I said, he could just need time.”

 

* * *

 

Despite what Dr. Reinstein suggested, James found himself unable to try to talk to Clint again that evening.  But he kept catching glances of the man, trying to gauge Clint’s emotional state.

Clint was reading a book again.  That stung a little.  The last couple days, neither of them had any books out while the other was present, opting to communicate instead of hiding between pages.

James got out the copy of _Tropic of Cancer_ that Fury had given him and ran his fingers over the cover.

James heard shuffling and a sigh.  He looked up at his roommate, who was now sitting up, book closed on his bed.

“Hey.”  It was the first thing Clint had said to James since he went to shower the previous day.

James set his book aside.  “Hey.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been kind of ignoring you.  That isn’t cool.”

He wasn’t kind of ignoring him; he was ignoring him completely.  But now that Clint was speaking to him again, James jumped on the chance to apologize again.  “No, I’m sorry.  It was obviously a sore spot for you, and I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

“Yeah.  I’m still sorry, though.  I could’ve handled it better and shouldn’t have shut you out.  It is a sore spot for me, and maybe one day, I’ll tell you about it.”

James nodded.  “And until then, I promise not to ask again.”  He hesitated, then went into his stuff and pulled out the box of chocolates.  “I didn’t eat any more of your chocolates.”

Clint chuckled.  “How thoughtful.  Do you wanna help me finish ‘em off now?”

“Sure.”

James moved to Clint’s bed, sitting down and setting the box of chocolates between them.  He took one of the chocolates and savored it.  “These really are good.”  He smiled, mischievous, hoping a joke wouldn’t be too soon or in poor taste.  “Maybe you should tell her to come more often.  That way, when you refuse to see her, you’ll get even more chocolates.”

To James’s relief, Clint actually laughed.

 

* * *

 

_James walked down a long hallway.  The hall was poorly lit as it was, but the dim lights kept flickering._

_The only thing James could see in the room at the end of the hallway was a chair.  It looked like an electric chair, with machinery hooked up to it._

_His footsteps echoed through the hall as he approached the room.  When he stepped into the room, he saw that it was full of medical equipment._

_“Prep him,” came a quiet voice in his ear._

_Out of nowhere, a multitude of hands came, grabbing him, forcing him toward the chair.  He struggled against them, but there were too many.  The hands pulled him down, until he was strapped into the chair._

“James.”

It took James a second to realize he was no longer asleep.  He continued to thrash a moment before he stilled and opened his eyes.

Clint stood over James’s bed.  “Nightmare?” he inquired.

James nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Yeah.  I get ‘em, too.”

“Still?”

“Not as much as I used to, but sometimes, yes.  Still.”

Clint walked back to his own bed, then James heard scraping across the floor.  He propped himself up on one elbow.  “What are you doing?”

Clint didn’t answer.  Seconds later, he was pushing his bed up against James’s.  He smiled down at James.  “Maybe if we know someone’s close by, we’ll both sleep easier.”

When James didn’t protest, Clint climbed back into his bed, this time only about two feet away from James.  Close enough that James could feel Clint’s breath on him.

Having the other man so close was a comfort to James.  He fell back asleep, and his dreams didn’t trouble him after that.


End file.
